Meteors and Spitfires
by Mr.Party
Summary: 'The Saga of Dawn' series #1 - Thrown from WWII, a lone fighter ace enters an entirely new war and an even scarier reality! Fighting massive space rocks while dodging shady organizations and 'Jerry' bullets, yet all in time for a spot of tea! -A Stratos 4 Fanfic *On 'Undetermined' Hiatus*
1. A New Dawn

_A/N: This is my first fan fiction, so please tell me what you all think. _

Chapter 1: A New Dawn

With the morning sky and the quickness of the wind whipping across my canopy, I felt better than ever! But, truth be told, I was scared out of my mind. This war (The newspapers have been calling it World War 2 for quite a while now) has been the most technologically advanced, with better tanks, airplanes making their glorious debut onto the world stage. I lucky lived a high-life, with my father being a triple ace in the Great War. He took his time and taught me everything a lass like me needed to know about airplanes from combat maneuvers to maintenance of the engine and control systems.

"Ah, I truly miss those days," I said to myself "and if only father hadn't broken his leg that night, he would've taken me to the school dance when I was younger." I stopped myself there, because reminiscing on unfortunate events won't help me survive the coming battles to be fought and the blood that will have to be shed to end this unforgiving and hellish madness.

Back before I became a pilot for the RAF, I was just a young teenage girl, living in Manchester, with a dream of finding that special kind of guy to settle down with. But that changed when Hitler and his Nazi friends decided to invade Poland for kicks. Oh no, we wouldn't let a Jerry try and take over again, not after the last time.

So with the British blood coursing in me boiling like a kettle of tea, I had my father write a recommendation and send it in to Fighter Command headquarters, with my father and I wanting to see how I did in actual combat, though my mother was none too pleased after she found out I signed up. But it didn't matter at the time, because I was going to defend our home and way of living with my life, if needed.

As I winged over to start my journey back to my base, RAF Biggen Hill to be exact, I switched on my headset and started to listen idly to the radio chatter. Most of it was just general talk and procedures by the other patrolling aircraft in the sky and the radar towers and spotters on the ground. This combination proved to be a solid line of defense when the Battle of Britain was raging just three years ago, which I was apart of and scored 9 kills verses the Luftwaffe, bringing the total to fourteen and making me a double ace!

"Biggen Hill, this is Manchester Lead, I'm commin' back to base, over." I called to my base.

"Copy that, Manchester Lead, this is Biggen Hill, we'll leave the light on and will be expecting your report when you get back." joked the radio operator.

"Roger that, Biggen Hill, I'll see you on the ground" I said, and turned off my mask's transmitter.

"Oh, there better be a light on when I get back, or they'll be hell to raise." I mumbled.

I also was secretly hoping that my boyfriend, James, would be waiting for me. He was a most wonderful guy, with that golden smile, and beautiful blue eyes, I'm surprised that he didn't pick someone else. Unfortunately, due to a leg wound after a dogfight with a couple 110s, the only thing he can pilot now is the Swordfish torpedo-planes that Coastal Command uses to attack Jerry shipping. I was surprised when my father actually approved of James, but I guess that doesn't really matter when I'm twenty years old and have a crappy apartment of my own in downtown London, which unfortunately is twenty-two kilometers away from where I was stationed.

The runway was outlined by the twilight-filled ocean of blue we call the sky, which was lucky for me because my Spitfire had no landing lights (only the night-fighter version had those), so I flipped the landing gear switch to "down" and lowered the flaps. After a perfect landing, and with my aircraft rolling into the parking space, I saw my base commander, Merlin Reynolds, chatting with two men in dark suits with the one on the left carrying an attache bound to him with a pair of handcuffs standing by on the tarmac. After I came to a bumpy halt in the space, the trio started towards me as I stepped off the wing of my fighter.

"Great," I said sarcastically, "I guess you guys aren't the welcoming committee then?"

"No, sorry Major Pendleton or was it Squadron Leader Pendleton?" answered one of the dark suited men, with a small, confused look on his face.

"Squadron Leader is the Royal Air Force equivalent to the Army rank of Major, so you use Squadron Leader since I'm not in the Army." I said politely to the pair of men in suits, because the base commander already knew that.

"My apologies, ma'am" said the one who responded first.

"Apology accepted, now what can I do for you chaps today?" said I in a cheery voice.

I was guessing to who these two men were affiliated with, maybe Fighter Command or the U.S Army Air Corps (USAAC), or better yet, they could secret government spies! (A bit far-fetched, huh?) Yet, it could be anyone's guess as to who these men, all decked out in black, could be.

My base commander decided it was time speak up, "Squadron Leader, these men are from an undisclosed government laboratory (Darn, I wasn't even close), and they want you, and only you to do a job for them."

"What's the job, if I may ask." I questioned.

"Sorry, we can't disclose that information at this time." answered the one with the attache blandly.

I was thinking that this might be risky, but I said to my self "Oh, what the hell, it might be worth it in the long run!"

So my answer was: "Well, even with that extremely limited information you just gave me, I accept your job, just tell me where I need to do."

The men looked pleased, by my point of view if I do say so my self. So with this mysterious job in hand, I set off to the local greasy spoon for a bite to eat and to set my mind on the work ahead of me. After a short drive into the near-by town, aptly named Biggin Hill. I stepped into the dimly lit shite-hole they call a "cafe", where upon taking a seat at an empty table in the corner, I ordered some fish and chips and a pint of pale ale. I was just savoring my first bites out of my fish, when all of a sudden James rushed in and came up to me.

"'ello Dawn, the guv said I could find you here," James gasped out as he bent down to take a breath, "I heard you took some kind of job from the government."

"Yes," I blinked and tilted my head slightly "it's true."

"Well, did you know that I'm now able to fly fighters again?" he said, then he grinned like a hyena.

"That's great!" I squeaked, then jumped up and hugged him tightly.

"Thank you," he replied, embracing me as well, "and I have better news."

"What?" I said, not knowing what could be better than that.

"I got assigned to _your _squadron!" he said, getting up and embracing me.

I stood there dumbfounded, my brain had just overheated and shut down like my Spitfire sometimes does, but it then snapped all into place. Slowly I got up, I turned to face him and kissed him straight on the lips.

"I'll see you in the briefing room, Flight Lieutenant" I said stone-faced, but then smirked and left the pub with a stunned James sitting where I had originally sat. An older man sitting next to James asked if he could have my meal, and all he could do was a slight nod. I drove back to the base with a couple of the fellas and went to the barracks. I undressed, took a shower, and went to bed because I wasn't on duty that night. As I was laying there and thinking about James and new ability, I thought that this new development is bittersweet.

"Its great that James can be a fighter pilot again and is going to be in my squadron," I thought to myself, "but for my lover to be fighting next to me and the possibility that he or I might die is just..." I couldn't continue, I just couldn't and wouldn't as I felt tears well up in my eyes. I sniffed, pulled the blanket over my head, and whimpered quietly for the rest of the night.

The next day, I met up with James and the rest of the squad and we all headed to the briefing room. We all sat in quietly, with a few of us chatting to one another calmly. I sat there, just having a deep thought about last night's events when the commanding officer came in and began to give us our orders for the day.

"All right men -and women- tomorrows operations are as follows: No. Forty-one Squadron is to escort their Squadron Leader, Squadron Leader Pendleton to be exact, to RAF Gibraltar. Squadron Leader Pendleton will be transporting a vital package with her aircraft and has top-level security clearance until the package has been delivered in a timely manner. The fore mentioned squadron is to defend Major Pendleton and her aircraft with the utmost priority. That is all, dismissed!" The CO said with much rehearsed discipline and procedure. I was a bit stunned, but it soon fell upon me, I was going to be a delivery girl!

This was just great, I was going on a thousand kilometer journey to deliver some special package to a rock in the middle of the Mediterranean! Especially with a small, cramped fighter plane that has a range of not even half that, I was a bit pissed off. My squadron, eight in all including James and I, was starting to gather around me to get their specific orders from me regarding the mission and to ask questions if need be. Oh, and did those questions come.

"Ma'am, what is the "package," one of my men questioned with air-quotes "that you will be transporting today?"

"Frankly, I don't know the answer to that myself." I said.

"If I know Gibraltar, that's a long trip, isn't it?" said another.

"I know mate, but we have been allocated under-wing petrol tanks and we will be making several stops in Spain." I answered.

"But aren't the dagoes neutral?" he questioned again.

"Yes, but the Spanish have secretly allowed us to land there, and we wouldn't be breaking their neutrality as long as we be quick and silent about getting our petrol." I said with the knowledge that was handed to me before the briefing.

"What about enemy fighters?" asked James. I was a bit surprised at the question and the questioner, but again I answered with the information that was given to me.

"Fighters shouldn't be a problem, but if they do become a pain the the rear, then half the squadron will move to engage and blow Jerry's arse out of the sky!" I said with much energy.

"What about the "jet" fighters?" James asked in a serious tone. The room instantly became deathly quiet after the question was asked. I had heard rumors of some type of "propeller-less" airplane that was faster than any other airplane in the world. Still, I had my share of doubts before when I first heard of it a few months ago, but now it had me thinking.

"How could my squadron and I defeat something so superior to our aircraft in almost every way?" I questioned myself.

"Have any of those rumors told you what these "jets" might look like?" I asked James.

"I hear that they are about the size of a large, normal fighter, but with two "tubes" under the wings and no propeller. Those "tubes" in question are it's engines." James said grimly.

"Ok, so at least we know what it looks like, anything else Flight Lieutenant?" I asked him again.

"Other than the fact that its extremely fast and heavily armed and armored." James said again grimly.

"So, with the information given to us, any more questions?" I asked once again.

The room was so silent you could have heard pin drop from the other end the runway, with the room's doors closed. I decided not to pursue the matter anymore on that note.

"If that's all the questions for today, you can all turn in for the trip tomorrow, dismissed!" I said in a military fashion and then saluted. As my fellow squadron mates filed out, James came up and asked if I was ok and I replied that I was fine but was thinking about tomorrow. Even though that wasn't the answer he was looking for, he decided not to ask anymore questions. He left the room, leaving me alone to pack up my belongings.

I walked to the barracks, took a cold shower (I wish they would have left me with some hot water, but beggars can't be choosers), and went to bed because I needed all my strength for tomorrow. I tossed and turned all night, having nightmares of indescribable events, which I don't remember seeing oddly enough. I hoped down to the bottom of my heart that my squadron and I would never, ever meet those "jet-engined hounds from hell."

_A/N: So, if you all enjoyed this little snippet of my soon to be grand story, please give me your thoughts on it! __Also, historical accuracy is not my top priority, but I will try and make it as accurate as possible, without making it boring and long._


	2. Journey into the Whirlwind

_A/N: Just to mention it again, my main goal isn't historical accuracy, but I will try to keep it as accurate as possible, while still retaining the story element._

Chapter 2: Journey into the Whirlwind

The next day, I had gotten up early to file paperwork, look-over maps, confirm the day's plans, and all the boring bureaucratic stuff. After about an hour of boring meetings, we finally got the go-ahead from command for our flight to Gibraltar.

"Well, that sure took a long bloody time," I mumbled to myself, "but I guess it was well worth it in the long run because I get to my little slice of the world." How funny is it that I look up to the bureaucracy for once. With my arms aching from all the weight of my supplies that I had collected earlier, I started to head towards my green and white under-bellied Supermarine Spitfire Mk. IX.

The supply packs in question are filled to the brim with all the essentials for my survival in the event I get shot down over enemy territory. This includes an electric torch, a blanket, some food, a Kukri, and among other semi-important things, my _piece de resistance, _a Lee-Enfield No. 4 Mk. I with a standard issue telescopic scope. A staple in the British Army, the rifle has been "around the block" a few times, if you know what I mean. I personally love it for its smooth, quick bolt-action, the accuracy and it's venerable .303 cartridge. It wasn't standard issue to pilots, but a little sweet talking and they made an exception.

"Hmm, maybe I should have brushed up on my marksmanship," I thought to my self, "because it really helps in a dogfight to have that calm, precise attitude."

"Well, I should put this stuff in the Spitfire before I turn into a raisin from standing in this blasted heat all day." I told myself. Which was true, because today was sure a hot one with the temperature in the mid to upper-30s (Centigrade, of course), which is quite hotter than Manchester, where I was born. I didn't live in Manchester most of the time, but I did live in Japan for a few years of my childhood and I do have a somewhat wide knowledge of Japanese culture and society.

So, while dragging on through the unrelenting heat, the base commander rushes up to me with an urgent look on his tan, heavily mustached face.

"Pendleton," he says, "I just received a wire-in and the lads over at Gibraltar need a new ensign, since the old one got torn to shreds by Jerry bombers, and they also requested it to be a formal occasion." He also added, "God only knows why," under his breath. I asked him if the rest of the squadron needed to be formal as well and he oddly said no, and that it was just to be to most senior officer wearing a formal outfit.

Not thinking about it, I nodded to him and ran quickly to my plane to deposit my bundle of goods into the stowage compartment. Then, I ran quickly back to the barracks and collected my dress uniform and went directly to the base quartermaster to get an ensign flag.

As I rushed out of the quartermaster's office, new flag in tow, I see the base commander walking into his office with - I think it was a worried expression - on his face, like he knew something but didn't want to discuss it. I slowed down a bit, thinking, "Why would the commander be worried, he only gets worried if something very bad is about to happen, like a Jerry bombing raid." After finding it puzzling, but not substantial to the mission, I walk on the rest of the way towards my awaiting plane and the rest of my impatient squadron.

After I had gotten settled in my classic green and white Spitfire, with the sound of engines roaring to life, I contacted the tower to request a departure for my squadron.

"One moment please," said the operator, and after about a minute and a half, he responded with the go-ahead.

"Copy that, number forty-one squadron is taking-off." I said in reply.

"Roger that, number forty-one squadron, say hello to Jerry for us and good luck!" the operator said enthusiastically.

With those cheering words ringing in my headset, I pushed the throttle to full power and the Merlin engine screamed as my Spitfire lurched down the runway. After the required take-off speed was acquired, my plane lifted of the ground and I aimed towards the heavens, with my plane rising ever faster. I checked back to see if the rest of the boys have gotten off the ground. As the last plane did so, I radioed back to the rest of the squadron to start forming up for the long journey ahead of us.

With the squadron flying at a nice cruising altitude of twenty-three thousand feet, a few of the men started chatting about the armament on their aircraft, like any group of men with guns would. One conversation I was listening in on went a bit like this: "I be telling you, the way you have yer guns at a ground-attack angle is suicide in a right-oh scuffle with Jerry, with those one-oh-nines packing a bloody 30 millimeter in their noses!" went on a pissed Scottish voice.

"Well, for some unknown reason, I do better with the guns the way they are." said another voice, which I also couldn't put my thumb on, but he did sound younger and more from the south.

"But think about the caliber of yer guns, three-oh-three, those couldn't scratch the paint off of a fabric-covered fighter, 'tis suicide I tell ye! At least I have a pair of Browning fifty calibers on mah bird!" said the first one in the same Scottish accent.

I heard no response from the second voice, so as if on cue, the first one starts up again.

"Lookie here, see the commander's (That would be I, not the base commander) bird, she has..." he paused. "Uh commander, what do yeh have on yer birdie again?" the first voice asked me.

"Well, I've got four fifties and a pair of twenty millimeter Hispanos, also I am carrying some of the new rockets just for kicks." I replied while grinning enormously under my mask, proud of my airplane's powerful armament. No wonder they called me 'The Lioness of England'.

"Rockets?" started up the first voice yet again, "well that'd be very interesting, aye, very interesting." Yes, rockets on a fighter is an interesting combination, but they are extremely helpful in taking out heavy, slow bombers. I have yet to test them out on Jerry fighters though. I think there is no need for an explanation why. After that little chat, the conversations died down a bit as we were streaking over the channel. The channel was a wondrous site to see, for I have rarely flown over it, let alone viewed from the air, but now I was able to take in it's full beauty. With dancing hues of light greens, blues and yellows of reflecting sunlight, almost reminiscent of Claude Monet's _Impression, soleil levant _or "Impression, Sunrise". (Not that I'm an art person, I just appreciate good art!)

After gawking at the sight, I scanned the darkening horizon like an eagle for signs of enemy activity. Upon seeing nothing out of the ordinary, (Was anything ordinary with times as hellish as these?) I pulled out my Spanish-English phrase book and started brushing up on my Spanish. For all I knew, this flight would be a routine "milk-run", as the Yank bomber crews called their "easy" missions.

With studying that for a few hours then getting bored, I looked around once again. With a slight tilt of the head, I could see that we were already well over the Spanish countryside. I told my men that we were over Spain and that we would be refueling because it seemed that everyone was starting to complain about their petrol tanks. With a few grumbled replies, I started to descend below the scattered the silver-lined clouds. It was already dusk as we landed at a secluded airstrip high in the Spanish mountains, near a place called _Ciudad Real_.

I decided that we should stay the night and rest up for the remainder of the flight to Gibraltar. James agreed but on the condition that we were never to leave the airstrip, to decrease the likely hood of Jerry's spies finding out. I was perfectly fine with that, so with the dagos refueling our planes, we all turned in for the night. With me laying on an old cot, in the middle of neutral Spain, with a war going on, it certainly felt out of place. So, with drowsiness setting up shop in my head, I drifted off to sleep.

I found myself back in my Spitfire, which I found odd, and soaring over a small island. Looking around, I couldn't seem to find the rest of the squadron, so I dived to a lower altitude to get my bearings. For kilometers around, there was nothing but water, water, and more bloody water.

"Ugh!" I moaned after seeing that, so, to brighten the mood, I scouted around the island for a viable place to land and explore this unknown island in the middle of nowhere.

"Well, that's just my luck!" I said, looking at a place to, well, land. So, I started the descent and guided the aircraft in for a surprisingly smooth landing on a clearing, just off the beachfront. After I had gotten out of the Spitfire and slid off the wing to the ground below, I noticed that there was no other sign of civilization, let alone other beings. I pulled out my sidearm and decided to have a look around.

Walking along the beach, I see that time has left this place almost virtually untouched. But what struck me as odd is the fact that the field I landed in looked like it was recently created. It almost seemed to me that someone was **expecting** my arrival, thinking about it sent shivers down my spine. I immediately pushed the thought of it out of my head, knowing that it was some sort of crazy notion, but the thought stubbornly stayed in my brain.

I turned back to see the distance I have traveled so far. When I did, I saw a rather large, dark, storm looming ominously on the horizon.

"Well, that doesn't look good, now does it." I said to myself. The first thing I needed to do was make a temporary shelter, and also cover my fighter, to protect it from any sort of damage. So, I started to jog briskly back to the field.

Upon reaching said field, I looked around and there was nothing out of the ordinary, except for the storm heading my way! I fanatically started to search for any sort of shelter, and if by magic, I spotted a grove of large trees. So I started to push my airplane to that spot, and I was also surprised that it was so light and easy to move. After doing that, I rummaged around my supplies until I found my knife, which in this case is a Nepali Kukri. With my knife in hand, I began to chop away at a nice green sapling.

With a little time, I began to build a suitable, dry shelter. After about 15 minutes, my simple barrier against the elements was finally erected. As I looked out, feeling the wind brush against my face, I saw that I had finished with not a moment to spare. The storm shrouded the small island in semi-darkness, already adding to my growing woes. So, I built a fire like any survivalist would do and hunkered down for the night. I sat down on a blanket I had brought, hearing the rain softly pit-patter on the trees above, thinking about my next move. I thought back to the words of wisdom my father had bestowed upon me at a young age.

"_Remember, when in doubt, fly higher than the heavens_." Dad would always say, but I never really knew what it meant. I always asked him what it meant and he would always say "_you'll know in time, honey, you'll know_." But right at the moment, that wasn't really helping my situation. Stumped, I laid my back against the fuselage and listened to the sounds of nature. With dull roars sounding off in the distance, I thought it was just another regular storm.

Suddenly, one of those roars started to get louder and loader. I jumped up and ran out from my shelter and jerked my head skywards, wiping my face every so often. The roaring was still getting louder, not stopping then starting, but one continuous, deafening sound.

"What's going on!" I screamed, still looking up. I saw that a small patch of clouds was starting to light up, almost as if they were on fire. The light grew more intense, so did the sound as I grew more and more frightened and awestruck by the spectacle. Just as if the light and roaring, almost screeching sound couldn't get anymore intense, a giant flaming ball burst through the clouds and sped violently towards the ground. Judging by the way it was falling, it seemed bound to fall on the tiny island.

No amount of military training could prepare me for something like this, I was deeply convinced for a moment that the end of the world was approaching. So, remembering those duck and cover drills that would always happen when ever I was in London, I rushed back to my shelter and dove under my Spitfire. I covered my head and hoped this would all be over, as the ground started to rumble and the trees shaking very violently.

Then, as huge explosion erupted and a shock wave ripped through the foliage, causing me to get thrown against the landing gear.

"What in the name of bloody hell just happened," I said to myself. In pain and partly deaf, I struggled upright and tried to get to my feet. While attempting to do that, I discovered that I seemed to have sprain my right ankle. Searching around for a branch to use as a crutch, I found my Spitfire for the most part undamaged, along with the surrounding flora.

I spied the branch, seemingly shaken off from a tree somewhere and used that to steady myself. I limped out into the field, finding that the storm subsided, started towards the rising column of thick, black smoke. As I speed-limped across the rain saturated beach, it struck me that the massive ball of fire that I had seen minutes earlier must have been some sort of large meteor. While I was thinking, I suddenly heard an all to familiar roar, so my head immediately snapped upwards. I saw not only one, or two, but at least 7 large meteors screeching towards me.

"Oh my god," I whispered to myself, knowing that I will not survive to see another day. With the ground quaking harder than ever before, I sat down hard with a cry.

"Dawn, it's time to wake up," I heard a mysterious voice whisper. I looked around, to locate the source of the voice, but to no avail.

"Help me!" I screamed, looking at the fiery rocks of doom streaking towards my position.

"Dawn, come on, it's time to wake up," the voice said insistingly. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out as I saw first meteor strike, somewhere on this godforsaken island. As I watched the explosion happen and the shock wave come, I happened to notice that the second one was heading on beeline right for me. Knowing of no chance to escape, I just watched it getting bigger and bigger. I closed my eyes, knowing that I was going to die, and I waited and waited. Then when the sound screaming at it's climax, it suddenly got deathly quiet.

"Dawn, you street broad, wake the bloody hell up!" yelled the irritated voice that broke the silence. I immediately snapped my eyes open, and there leaning over me was James.

"Hey, so you've finally woke up, huh, sleepyhead." he said grinning. I, as if by some womanly reflex, slapped him across the face, hard. He recoiled back, holding his hand against his face.

"Ow, what was that for?" he said, whimpering.

"That's for calling me an 'street broad', you balmy bastard!" I said as I swung my feet from under the covers.

"Sorry, ma'am..." he muttered like a scolded schoolboy. Satisfied, I asked him to leave so I could freshen up, which he did so, still nursing his wounded face and pride. After he left, I just stood there, remembering the horrible nightmare that I had just been through. I decided not to tell anyone, because I needed to be strong to guide my mates through this mission.

After having a shower, I got suited up and went out on the field to check my aircraft. Looking at everything from the flaps, to the gauges in the cockpit, it all checked out and was fine.

"Alright chaps, lets get these props spun up!" I said happily to the rest of the squadron, with them scrambling for their respective planes. With the familiar sound of the Merlin engines starting up, I began to taxi towards the end of the runway, with the rest following suit. A few of the locals came to wave us off, which I thought was nice. They were chanting something, it sounded like '_Viva la Vida!'_, but to what it meant, I was at a loss. As my plane reached the end, and swung into position, I throttled up the engine to maximum power. The plane, shaking and bumping down the runway, was gleaming in the late morning sun. Peeking at the airspeed indicator, I saw that I had the required speed to take-off, so I gently yanked the stick towards me.

Once again, I was flying with the birds, well if there were any birds about. I circled the airfield once, waiting for the rest to get airborne, when I thought I saw a dark speck in the sky, but when I blinked, I was gone. Shrugging my shoulders, I turned my aircraft to the direction of Gibraltar. After everyone was formed up, light conversation began anew, having been previously left off from yesterday. I didn't really listen to it much, a few bits here and there, but I was just too busy deciphering the nightmare I had just a few hours prior. With a spur of the moment, I asked my fellow squad-mates what '_Viva la Vida'_ meant, and I got the answer from none other than James.

"It roughly means 'long live life' in Spanish," he replied, I guess taking those Spanish courses at the academy wasn't a bad choice for him.

Looking around and pondering why they chanted that, I saw nothing of interest until I looked up. I saw the distinctive shape of a single Me-109 barreling straight toward us with it's guns blazing.

"Tally-ho! Bandit, twelve o'clock high," I yelled over the radio, "divide up and attack!" The moment I said those words, the squadron sprung into action, like seasoned veterans they were.

"He must be a scout, watch your six o'clock chaps!" I heard James say over the airwaves. It was all a blur, with airplanes diving and twisting through the air. While another section was going after it, I spotted the main fighter group, but with an unfamiliar shape among the 20 odd aircraft. I squinted my eyes on the unfamiliar fighter and to my disbelief, I saw those distinctive 'tubes' slung under the wings.

"Looks like Jerry's decided to play today lads," I said enthusiastically, "and they've brought a two-six-two for us to play with!" Hearing a few comments and suggestions for the plan of attack, I ordered that the scout had to be dealt with first and the two-six-two was the next absolute priority. With a string of confirmations, I told the rest of the squadron not chasing the scout to follow me and attack the main group.

I accelerated to maximum power, with the adrenalin pumping through me. I wanted, no, needed to see what that futuristic jet could do!

"James, come with me," I said to him, "we're going after that jet!"

"Roger that!" James said, I could tell he felt the same way as I did. We headed straight through the enemy group, shooting at anything in front of us, our focus was on Jerry's fancy new toy. As my fifty-caliber guns rattled to life, I scored another kill on an unfortunate Messerschmitt that strayed into my gun sights. I watched tumble down to the ground in a massive fireball. I was hoping that the pilot got out alright, because no one, German or not, should die a horrible, fiery death.

Now, getting back to the battle, I saw a few more German fighters go down in the same fashion. I started to bank my Spitfire to the left, to start chasing that 262, when I felt a searing pain in my right shoulder. I immediately griped it, using my other hand to dive away from the enemy fire. The pain was intense, so intense that I almost forgot that I was still in the middle dogfight. Evading the bullets whizzing past my head, I quickly looked over to see that the offending bullet passed right through my shoulder and seemed to imbed itself into my seat.

"I'm hit, James, cover me please!" I asked in a painful voice.

"Are you ok?" I heard him ask.

"No, I caught one right through the shoulder, and it's burning like the dickens!" I responded, as another wave of pain swept over me. I tried to ignore the pain by searching around for that damned jet. I looked up in my little rear-view mirror, and my heart skipped a beat, because there was the coveted jet, right behind me! I guess the hunter has become the hunted, as I frantically tried to turn away, but it was too late as the two-six-two's guns riddled my Spitfire full of holes. I lost all control as the plane did a nose dive towards the ground.

"Dawn!" I faintly heard from James, along with a burst of gun fire.

"Pull up lass, pull u-" I heard a Scottish voice say, before the radio fizzled and died. As my aircraft plummeted to the ground, I heard some sort of humming sound that grew progressively louder. I thought it was the wings moaning under the strain of the air rushing past them. I hurriedly thought about my predicament, with me being wounded, my plane unresponsive, and the rest of my squadron fighting for their lives, I knew I was having a bad day.

"'_Viva la Vida'_, my arse!" I cried out in frustration.

Abruptly, an explosion rocked my green and white aircraft and I was temporary deafened by it. When I snapped my head forward, an extremely bright light flashed in my face, blinding me as I covered my face. When I dropped my arm, I glanced around and all I saw was white, and nothing else, just pure white.

…Was I... Dead?

_ Oh, what will come next! Isn't the excitement and suspense building? As always, please give me your thoughts on how I could improve this! Also, Happy New Year everyone!  
_


	3. Second Times the Charm

_I might as well say it now to prevent the wrath of the legal system. I do not own _"Stratos 4" _or any of the place, names, or people mentioned in this story. __All__ characters of my creation are my property, so if you wish to use them, please ask! Thank you! _

_Btw, it's a little late, but all the characters speak English. This is just to simplify things for me and the readers. Also, this takes place a bit before the first episode, so it should be easy to follow. _

Chapter 3: Second times the charm...

I was sure that I was six feet under, almost certain, because no one could have survived a crash of that magnitude.

"Hmm, so this is what heaven is like, I thought there would be more puffy clouds and the pearly golden gates." I said to myself, expecting more than an endless void of white. Abruptly, I felt something whack the side of my head.

"Oi," I cried, "what was that?" Looking around, I still saw that the white void was still there. I had no idea what hit me, but when I blinked a few times, the whiteness started to disappear! So I started to blink more rapidly, and low and behold, my vision started to come back to me. Between blinks, I could see that I was still in my Spitfire, and still falling. The only thing different this time is the fact that I wasn't falling over a Spanish mountain range, but I was falling over a whole bloody ocean!

I hoped this wasn't just another sick dream, but when I looked over at my shoulder, I still saw the bloodied wound, and the pain came back all too real.

"Where the hell am I?" I said, frustrated, knowing that nobody could hear me. I looked at my gauges and read them off, one by one.

"The altimeter is at.. thirty-five thousand feet and dropping." I said, realizing that I had somehow jumped up several thousand feet in the matter of a few seconds, but I kept reading them off.

"Airspeed is three hundred sixty-five and rising." I found that not surprising, because I was still falling like a stone. After reading off the rest, I finally came to the petrol indicator.

"Hmm, it says my drop tank is completely empty," I read out, concerned "well then, it seems I need to part with them then." With saying that, I adjusted the required knobs and buttons, and felt the aircraft jump a little, an indicator that I had successfully jettisoned my empty under wing tank. With that out of the way, I turned my attention to the wound that been bothering me for the past few minutes. I took out a small towel and started to painfully press on the wound. I bit my lip, this was a very bad situation that I was in with being wounded, on my last reserves of petrol, having a useless radio, and the fact I had no idea where I was. Looking around, I caught glimpses of what looked like an inland, just below a layer of Cumulus clouds.

"Oh, might as well give it a try." I said with new found hope. I first tested out my rudder, flaps, other components to see if they worked after that scuffle with Jerry, and to my surprise, they all worked fine. The only thing that was bothering me, other than my wound, was the engine. I think I might have pushed it too hard, because the controls were a bit sluggish, but it wasn't significant. Starting to descend, I figure that if there are friendly airplanes in the air, that's good. But if the is even one single Jerry fighter, bomber, or even float-plane, I will attack without mercy and destroy the enemy on the island. I gritted my teeth, I hoped the latter would not be necessary.

I tuned out my thoughts, only listening to the sounds of the engine purring and the air rushing past. Oddly, in this state, my pain seemed to let up quite a bit, as if I was in tranquility with the environment around me.

I fiddled with the radio for a little bit, but not accomplishing anything significant. I sighed, there better be something worthwhile on that island. So, after about five minutes, I finally reached the cloud layer. My eyesight started to fail a bit, I guess a side effect of all the blood I had lost, but I shook my head around and it cleared up.

I mentally crossed my fingers, in hopes that there would be friendly chaps as I burst through the cloud layer. But to my dismay, the island below had one long, paved runway, a few scattered clumps of buildings, and a few farms. I scanned the area for any sort of aircraft, but my vision started to haze again, so I dived lower, running the risk of anti-aircraft fire. Again, I shook my head and and turned my Spitfire towards the runway I had spotted earlier. Suddenly, I saw what looked like a pair of orange and whitish 262's burst from the clouds in front of me. I wondered what the orange on white could have symbolized, but I was too intent on shooting the pair down.

"If they didn't see me, then this just might be my lucky day." I sinisterly said. I quickly dived into the cloud bank and started to shadow the two lone planes, oblivious to what I was about to do. I gauged the distance between us, and jammed the stick back to get above the clouds. Once above the clouds, I sped up until I figured I was about right on top of the pair of jets. Summoning up the courage of a lion, or lioness in this case, I shoved the stick forward and screamed down through the clouds, seeing the jet right in front of me as I broke through.

I decided to play around with the pair, beginning with a nice long burst of tracer fire in front of them. Then, I zoomed right in front of their canopies, causing them to break formation. I wish I saw the look on their faces, but it all happened so fast that I couldn't even catch what they looked like. With that done, I started looking for the closest target, and diving right in front of me was the said target. So I kicked the green and white Spitfire around and gave chase of the orange jet plane.

With chasing it, I could partially determine the pilot's flying abilities, like noticing that this pilot has some shaky flying abilities, almost as if he was fresh out of flight training. I checked my six o'clock, to see if the other one was tailing me, but when I looked, there was no sign of the plane. I smelled a trap of some sorts, so I pardoned the aircraft in front of me with a quick raking of fire, which it strangely avoided like some machine, and I turned away in search of the missing #2 airplane. I saw the one I was chasing run into the clouds above, but it returned with the missing number two.

"Well, well, looks like it's a right-o scuffle with two versus one, hmm?" I said to myself, hot with anticipation. So, I gave chase once again, following them all the way to the airport. Looking around as I flew over the airport, I saw that it was just a general airport, with what looked like large, concrete military aircraft bunkers. But I snapped out of the sight-seeing trance, knowing that the enemy was right in front of me, and raring for a fight no less.

I started to climb, seeing that being near the ground won't help much, when a buzzer went off. Hurriedly, I searched for the source of the sound and, ultimately, the source of the problem. What I found was quiet unsettling, my petrol indicator showed that I was on my last drops of the flammable liquid. Doing the math, I figured that I didn't have enough petrol to escape, let alone fight the jets. So, upon weighing my choices, I decided to do a single low-level pass over the runway to see the layout of the near-by area, and for planning routes of evasion.

"Come on Dawn, you can do it!" I encouraged myself. Beginning the descent, I was coming in from the North North-East direction or compass heading 35, from what my compass told me. Looking at both sides, I could see that there was a chain-link fence off to my right and a field full of tall grass that leads out to a beach. I decided that would be my exit route, so I looked for an opening in the fence. But I had to be quick, because the sun was setting, and then I would really be in trouble.

"Ah, there's one," I said, spying a large hole in the fence , near a small white shed almost immediately. So, with the route planned, all I had to do was land this bird and try to survive. Jamming the stick back once again, I used up the last remaining drops of petrol to gain altitude. With the engine fluctuating, being starve of fuel, it finally quit after all it's been through. I pulled down the landing gear switch, plane glided over the runway by just a few metres.

Then it dropped like a stone, landing on the pavement hard, so hard that another wave of pain swept over me again. Clutching my shoulder, I jammed my foot on the brakes, making the Spitfire finally come to an abrupt halt after a long, hectic journey. I immediately started to unbuckle myself, and threw open the sliding canopy, even before the propeller stopped spinning. Grabbing my Webley revolver, I got out and slid off the wing to the ground below.

Looking hazily in the direction of the airport tower and other miscellaneous buildings, I saw people starting to emerge from said buildings. Sirens, alarms and those sort of things started going off, and the people started to collectively point in my direction. I also saw some vehicles starting to head my way, so I searched for the little white shed I spotted earlier. The shed was just about 10 meters to my left so, gripping my pistol tightly, I dashed for the hole in the fence like an Olympic sprinter. A lot of my friends said that I was a great runner, so good in fact that I entered a youth race before I enlisted. I came first place by quite long shot.

As soon as I reached the hole, I dove through it and sprinted across the field to the beach at the far end. The moment my feet touched the warm sand, I was running like never before, and I just kept running until my legs gave out from exhaustion. As I dropped to the ground, gasping for breath and in pain, I started to give in to a 'surrender' thought: "Why should I run, their just going to capture me or shoot me none the less, I might as well tell them where I am..." I crawled up the beachfront to a small clump of trees, and I pulled myself up against a thick tree. The only problem to that plan is that I have no means of communication between the opposing party and I.

"Well, that's not entirely untrue," I said to myself, feeling weaker by the minute. I remembered back to the night when Mother, Father, and I had just came back from living abroad in Japan, and the furniture movers were busy unpacking at our old home in Manchester, so we had the night to ourselves. Let it be that this was nineteen thirty-eight, and I was only fourteen back then, so we decided to go see a play at the Opera House. The play, "_Anything Goes"_ by Cole Porter, was very exciting and funny, but I will always remember that one musical number, the self-titled "Anything Goes", with lyrics by the same man.

I started to hum the tune of it, then the lyrics just came along by them selves.

_Times have changed, _I started to sing,

_And we've often rewound the clock,_

_ Since the Puritans got a shock,_

_ When they landed on Plymouth Rock._

_ If today,_

_ Any shock they should try to stem,_

_ 'Stead of landing on Plymouth Rock,_

_ Plymouth Rock would land on them. _

I shivered, as it was getting darker, but I kept right on with the song.

_In olden days a glimpse of stocking_

_ Was looked on as something shocking, _I paused for a moment to listen to the voices approaching rapidly. Then I started up once again.

_But now, God knows, _

_ Anything Goes... _

I kept singing on and on, but as I did, I felt my last threads of life snapping. My head was aching, and my voice finally fell silent. In the last moments before my eyes closed, I saw an electric torch winding it's way lazily towards me until in settled on my right foot. Then I fell into a world of darkness and despair.

"I guess I died for real," I thought to myself, looking around the almost pitch-black area.

"Oh, wake up!" I heard a familiar voice behind me. I spun around and there standing before me was James. I almost choked, I ran up to him, just staring at him.

"What's the matter Dawn, cat got you tongue?" James joked.

"Where am I?" I asked after a long silence.

"You're here." He said plainly.

"No," my temper rising a bit, "where is here?" I said.

"I'll say this, you're here, and that's that." He said, not answering my question.

"Am I dreaming?" I said, looking straight into his eyes. All he did was nod and mouth the word "yes".

"How can I wake up?" I asked him again.

"Just say '_Per Ardua ad Astra_'." he replied politely.

"What does that mean?" I said confusingly scratching my head. I didn't even know what language that was in, but it did sound a bit like French and Latin...

"You already know the answer." he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm sorry, but I really don't." I said, still not getting it. James looked annoyed, so I kept my trap shut. Finally, he sighed, shaking his head side to side slowly.

"Fine, since you seem to forget all of basic training, what was one of the first things they taught us in flight school?" he questioned. I ran through the list of things that we were first taught, and the only word that kept popping up in my head was "motto".

"The RAF motto?" I said questioningly, hoping it was right.

"Yes, now do you remember what it means?" he shot back at me.

"Uh, no?" I said, twirling my fingers.

"I still can't believe you're a Squadron Leader..." he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'll say it once," he said, finally giving up, "it means 'Through Adversity to the Stars'."

Now I was remembering it! It all came back to me in a flood.

"I'm so sorry," I apologized to James, "I've been acting like a complete ninny this whole time, can you forgive me?" James had that serious look on his face, but the features on his face started to soften as a smile grew upon his face.

"Oh Dawn, I can never stay mad at you!" he said smiling, then he walked over and embraced me. I hugged him back, and then stood back, wanting to recite the motto in Latin.

"Well, here it goes," I said excited, "_Per Ardua ad Astra_!" A bright flash lit up the area, as James slowly faded into the darkness.

"Ta-ta Dawn, and good luck!" he said to me while saluting. I opened my mouth to say good bye, but not a sound came out, so I just saluted him back. Then a sudden rush of wind and then there was nothing.

I started to hear sounds, but I couldn't distinguish them or where they were coming from. I thought for a moment, then I decided to try and open my eyes. Feeling groggy, I slowly opened my eyes, until they felt fully opened up. Everything was blurry, so I blinked a few more times until the my vision became crystal clear. The first thing I saw was a white, tiled ceiling, with very bright tubular light bulbs spaced every so often.

I tilted my head from side to side, observing all of the room's contents. I saw that there was a window to my right, with a view that you could only see on a postcard. In front of me, there was a black box with a glass screen on the front of it, I think it was a television, but I couldn't be sure because our family didn't own one. Under the television, oddly enough, was my service dress uniform, all cleaned and repaired. I thought I had left that in my Spitfire, but I just shrugged my shoulders and went with it.

To my left, I looked at what looked like a bunch of medical equipment, but it seemed so futuristic. I sat up, looking down, I could see that I was on a hospital bed, presumably in a hospital. I looked at myself, seeing that I was wearing a hospital gown. When I looked under the gown, I saw that my wound had been cleaned up and was bandaged securely. Suddenly, breaking the quietness, was a knock on the door, then a woman in her early thirties walked in, with a tray of food in hand.

"Good morning, and how are we feeling today?" asked the woman.

I responded with silence, still looking around the room in awe.

"Well... here is some food," she said pushing the tray on a moveable table towards me. I decided to keep quiet, until I could get some answers from an actual authority figure, instead of what looked like a plain-old nurse.

"If you need anything, please press the button that is on the side of your bed and I will come as quickly as possible." the nurse said as she left the room, closing the door behind her. I sat back against the headboard, smiling at the fact that I was still alive, but that happy moment was short-lived, because I still wanted to know where I was and no one has been able to furnish me with a viable answer.

I sighed, "Well, I might as well try and find something out." So I got out of the bed and tried to steady myself from falling. After I had gotten the walking aspect down, I went over to where my uniform was, and inspected it personally. Everything was in order, right down to the buttons on the coat, to the shoulder messes on the dress shirt. I looked through the coat's right waist pocket, and found the Distinguished Flying Cross (DFC) that my father gave to me to wear around my neck, for my travels. Also, I some what treated it like a St. Christopher medal. I held the small, gleaming cross in my hands, looking at the fine details of the silver award.

So, after reminiscing in the past, I draped the cross over my neck and put on my blue-gray uniform jacket over my gown, because I wasn't going to sit around all day and wait for some prick to tell me what to do! I left my room, noting the room number just in case, and started to walk down the bustling hallway.

Looking around, I saw that the majority of people here were Asian, but to what country I was in, I couldn't tell. As I leisurely walked down hallway, a few people here and there started glancing in my direction and pointing, but many just went back to their own devices. I kept walking, until I ran into an elderly doctor wearing thick, rimmed glasses.

"'cuse me," I asked him, "could ask you a few questions?" Raising his eyebrows in surprise, to took a moment to look at me from head to toe.

"Why yes," he said, checking his watch, "I would be happy to answer your questions.." He beckoned me to a bench, near a flight of stairs. I complied and then began to ask him about where I was and who brought me here.

"Oh, you're at a JSDF hospital, Naha branch to be exact." he said, adjusting his glasses, leaving me more confused than ever, but I decided to pursue a different line of questioning instead.

"Ok, moving on," I said, continuing, "do you know who brought me here?" Because knowing your enemy is half the battle in my book. The older gentlemen looked at me for a moment, then asked "Could I have your room number to do a check?" Knowing that I finally got somewhere, I told him my room's number. He took out a small note pad and wrote down the number, then he shuffled off in a timely matter, most likely to gather the information I requested and maybe then some.

After about twenty minutes, the doctor came back with a brown paper folder, and a confused look on his face. He came up and sat down next to me once again. He sat there for a moment, almost looking forgetful (I guess it was a sign of his age maybe?), but then snapped around and handed me the folder.

"Ah, here is some information you might find helpful." he said. When I opened the folder, there was a few sheets of paper among it's contents. Seeing a sort of medical form, I looked it over and discovered that it was mostly incomplete, save for a few medical questions already answered.

"Do you want me to fill this out?" I asked the doctor, holding up the form.

"Why, yes, if you would be so kind miss." the doctor said, nodding his head. So, I asked him for a pencil, and started away on the form. It asked trivial questions like your birthplace, age, date of birth, and other medical related questions. For the birthplace, I wrote of course "Manchester, England" and the date of birth was "February 27, 1922". After the rest of the questions were answered, I handed the completed form back, and watched him read over it. The look of dismay slowly shone upon his face, with his eyes darting back to me, then the paper, and vice versa.

"Miss, I think what you put down as your birth date might be wrong." the doctor said, breaking the pause.

"No, I think I would know my own birthday." I said, looking at him oddly. I would know my own birthday, thank you very much, and why did he say it was wrong?

"Because," the man quietly started, "if this is true, you would be about one-hundred years old!" What, did I just here "one-hundred years old"? I asked him for the current date and he replied "August 12th, 2024". I sat there utterly dumbfounded, I had just traveled over 80 years into the future! Still, one question remained in my head, why was I exactly in this bloody place?

_ As always, any questions, comments, or concerns, please review!_


	4. A Double Reunion

_ A/N: Well, here's #4, so enjoy!_

_  
Chapter 4: A Double Reunion

With that startling series of events now piecing themselves together, I decided to find out how in the name of the King George this could happen. So, tapping the elderly man on the shoulder, I whispered into his ear that I requested an immediate discharge from the hospital, and that he was to basically keep his mouth clamped. All he did was nod a bit and walked off in a trance, presumably to get the discharge papers. Then I waited, waited and waited some more, yet the doctor didn't show.

But, at last, I saw the gray-haired man come back to where I was sitting. He seemed more or less relieved, like after going to the uh, well, you get the point.

"Here are your release papers, miss." the doctor said, handing them to me.

"If that's all, I'll go back to my room now." I said, getting up. As I got up, the doctor grabbed my arm and said "Miss, I should tell you that two men asked me to release you to them, and I complied." This was a lucky break, now I could find who brought me here. As I walked back towards my room, I was thinking on how to present myself in public. Should I wear my dress uniform, or just a regular dress shirt, with my shoulder messes on?

I decided to just go with wearing the uniform, as I entered my room. First, I took the dress jacket I was wearing off and went in front of a large mirror to comb my medium-short Burnett hair. After I did all the girlish stuff (My father always called me a tomboy), I dressed up and adjusted everything so that it was comfortable.

I gathered my belongings into a canvas bag, left the room, and started towards the front entrance, marked by a helpful set of signs. I glanced around occasionally, but I found nothing of interest, so I kept walking. After a few times of getting lost, I finally found the main entrance way. Casually, I walked up to the desk that had a "check-in/release" sign above it and handed them my papers so I could have the green-light to go.

I tapped the desk as I waited impatiently for the staff to process my papers. I looked around the waiting room, seeing a few people here and there, yet most of them seemed disinterested in my peeking.

"Here you go, miss," a voice abruptly said behind me, "you're cleared to leave now." I turned to see a young man, holding my papers in his hands. I took the papers, and said thanks, he then told me that the men I was to be released would be soon waiting right outside the front doors to pick me up. Again, I said thanks and hurried off towards the main doors. After a short walk, I came to the doors and reached out for the handle, but the doors suddenly slid open. I jumped back with a cry, causing most of the room's occupants to look towards me. Embarrassed, I quickly shuffled through the open doors and walked out into the early-afternoon sun.

I shielded my eyes from the harsh sun, and looked around the open area. I saw people quietly milling in and out of the hospital, none of them giving me a second look. I looked around and saw a nice bench to sit on.

"Well, I might as well have a snooze while I wait for those two chaps to come." I said under my breath. As I napped on the bench, I thought in-depth about what just happened to me, it seemed like just an hour ago I was shooting down Jerry fighters over the frigid mountain peaks of Spain. I recounted the past events, and kept on thinking about my current predicament.

"Excuse me," I heard a voice say in front of me. I opened my eyes and saw two men, both wearing white dress shirts with some sort of patch I've never seen before, dashing blue ties, and dark pants, standing right in front of me.

"Would you mind coming with us?" said the man again. They obviously weren't happy, but I nodded and stood up from my bench. I got a better look at them as I followed the pair, seeing that the one that spoke first had dark hair, and the other had, I would say, a lighter shade of brown? We continued until we came upon a bustling street. As the darker haired one stood with me, the other hailed a taxi, and one promptly pulled up.

"Get in," said the one who stood with me in an unemotional tone. I got in the small vehicle, and was sandwiched in-between the two men. I felt cornered and nervous, but I opted not show it. After the darker haired man gave the driver some instructions, the cab started forward to an unknown location. I tried to look around, but the men where obstructing my view of the outside world. So I sat there, quiet like a schoolgirl in the back of the room who no one would talk to.

It must have been at least twenty to 25 minutes before the car finally stopped. I craned my neck to see outside and I saw that we had stopped at a chain-link fence somewhere. The driver spoke a few indistinguishable words to a man dressed as some kind of generic guard and, with a nod, the cab drove on through to the other side of the fence.

I craned my neck again to see that we were driving across some sort of... airport? It wasn't like the one I had landed at with my Spitfire, but none the less, it was still an airport. I still kept my mouth shut, mainly because I didn't want to break this heavy silence, but also I had nothing to say. After a little more driving, the cab finally stopped, and the brown haired man opened his door, motioning me to come out. I obeyed and swiftly got out of the taxi.

I looked at the slowly setting sun on the horizon and admired it's beauty. I felt a nudge and turned to look at the darker haired man, who nodded towards what looked like a plane, but yet again, there were no propellers on the aircraft to speak of. It was a plain white airplane, with two tubes situated near the vertical stabilizer, which was in an odd T-shape. After hurriedly scrutinizing the rest of the aircraft's appearances, the two men started to walk towards it. I hurried along with them, thinking quietly to myself what to say and do from now on.

As we reached the said plane, the brown haired man pulled down the entry stairs of the plane, not unlike those on a Douglas DC-3. The dark haired man motioned me to climb in after his brown haired counterpart. I did so, and got in the aircraft without a word spoken. I looked around the spacious interior in awe, until one of the men pointed to a seat from over my shoulder. So, I took a seat on the surprisingly comfortable chair and put my canvas bag on the seat next to me.

I glanced at the two men as they were getting settled in what I figured was the cockpit.

"Nice day, isn't it?" I said, looking out the window at the airport before me.

"Yes indeed," the dark haired one responded. After that, I kept quiet, not wanting to find an unfavorable side to the two men. I sat back as I heard the engines starting up. I listened closely, as the rhythmic humming grew louder and louder. Over the sound, I could hear the two men chatting with one another.

"Ya, so I hear Sayaka still has the hots for you, huh Kazuma?" said the brown haired one. The other one named Kazuma (Presumably his first name?) sighed and muttered something to the brown haired one. After that, they became quite also, only talking if it was strictly procedural, like talking to what I guessed was the control tower.

I nodded off after a few minutes, as I felt the plane lurch forward over the runway. I took a nap, but with open, and listening ears, because you never know what someone like me could hear. After the aircraft had taken to the air, the conversation between the two started up once again.

"So we're on duty again tonight," remarked the brown haired man, stretching his arms. Kazuma nodded, he seemed to be a quiet-type person, versus his loud counterpart.

"Hmm, what was that comet's name again?" the brown haired man followed, "was it Katie or was it Carly?"

"No, it's Catherine..." Kazuma sighed.

"Darn, I almost had it, but still," the brown haired man continued, "let just hope we don't have to go up tonight." Kazuma nodded in agreement. I thought, "what does it mean to go 'up', I mean, are they going to do something to the comet?" I stopped. "Wait, a _comet was coming?_" I thought to myself, feeling the small shivers down to the base of my spine. Anyone would have run around in circles and screamed like ninny, but I was far too mature and hardened by battle to do such a thing. Still giving the impression that I was asleep, I just kept thinking about what to do once we land.

"Hey," said a voice, I opened my eyes, after I had actually went to sleep, to see that the brown haired man turned around and looking right at me. He said "We'll be landing in about ten minutes, Ok?" I nodded, he grinned and nodded back. I took off the DFC from around my neck after he turned around, and shone it up to the light, watching the rays glitter and dance off the polished silver. It seems every time I pull this out, some sort of memories come flooding back.

A smile grew upon my face as I relished in the joy of those memories. Looking up, I saw the brown haired man staring at me, with confusion on his face.

"Oi, what are you looking at?" I said blatantly, narrowing my eyes.

Catching him off guard, he quickly said it was nothing and sheepishly turned back to the instruments in front of him.

Soon after, the plane touched down softly at the mysterious destination. I looked out the window, only discover that it was the same airport I landed at with my Spitfire earlier. Too bad I haven't the slightest idea on just how long I was out. As the plane's engines shut down, the two men were already hurrying me down the stairs and onto the pavement below. After I jumped out, the two men were already walking towards the control tower, so I quickly fell right in-step behind them.

As we were walking, I finally noticed how bloody hot it was. I was practically being hounded on by the sun and this awful humidity. After what felt like 5 kilometers, we finally made it inside the control tower, and what a relief it was! Still, we hurried along, until we came to a staircase that spiraled upwards, which was no big surprise.

The brown haired man bowed in front of me and with his whole arm pointing up the staircase, he said "Right this way, miss." He was acting like a gentlemen, but from the look on his partners face, it most likely was a sad attempt at trying to flatter me. After laughing off that little spectacle, we proceeded to climb the stairs, with me bringing up the rear. As we neared the top of the stairs, I heard light conversation and a soft mechanical-like humming coming from above.

As I turned to climb up the last bit, I saw a man sitting on a couch with his back partly turned to me. He looked to be in his mid-sixties, but he could be older. The two younger men that escorted me stepped aside and the older gentleman turned to look at me with a warm, welcoming smile.

"Good day miss!" the older gentleman said, with an oddly familiar British accent.

"Good day to you too, sir." I said politely. I know I've seen his face somewhere before, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. He came about, now fully facing me, but still sitting on the couch.

"So, how are we feeling today, miss?" He said, still smiling.

"Good, sir," I replied, "but if you don't mind me asking, where am I?"

"Ah, you're at the Cosmic Emergency Management Agency's Shimoji Intercept Base!" He said with a hearty chuckle. Well, that was quite a long name, I have to remind myself to get the short version later.

"Um, what country would this base's location pertain to?" I asked, hoping it was somewhere near England.

"Japan, and to be a little more exact, the Ryukyu Islands." He mused. I raised my eyebrows a bit, how lucky I was to be in the country I lived abroad in so many years ago. Still, I looked at the older man with questions in mind. I don't know why, but I really wanted to ask for his name.

"Would you mind if I asked for your name sir?"I asked, hoping this conversation wouldn't turn sour and unfavorable for me.

"Oh, how rude of me," He apologized, "my name is Robert Reynolds and I am the commander of this Meteor Sweeper base." I knew it, he had to be the son, or grandson, of my base commander, Merlin Reynolds, back at RAF Biggin Hill. But the only thing that intrigued me was the fact that a British person, thousands of kilometers from home, would even think about commanding a base out in the middle of nowhere. I passed it off in my mind, knowing he must of had his own reasons.

I decided to ask about his family, just to make sure I knew who I was dealing with.

"Sir, does a Merlin Reynolds ring any bells to you?" I asked.

"Why, that would be my grandfather, god rest his soul." He added, confirming my suspicions.

"So," He rebounded, as if suddenly remembering something, "do you know why you are here today?"

"Um," I stalled, "I'm sorry sir, but no, I don't know why I'm here today." I really had forgot why the hell I'm here!

"Well," He began with his tone getting darker, "you're here because you fired upon my pilots, which after that little show, the four pilot candidates forced me to transfer them to another, very far away base!" I could see that his normally cheery attitude was quite harsher once you irritate him enough.

"I-I'm deeply sorry sir..." I quietly recovered after that harsh verbal abuse.

He looked as if he was about to continue with the onslaught, but he suddenly stopped and looked at me. I saw him eying me from head to toe, and then his eyes looked down and he stroked his beard slowly, as if in deep thought. His face suddenly brightened up, like an electric torch turned on in the middle of the night.

"I'm terribly sorry, I seemed to have failed to ask for you're name miss." He said apologetically, still smiling.

"Squadron Leader Dawn Pendleton, No. 41 squadron, RAF" I said as I saluted, knowing there was no use to keeping my identity a secret.

"Hmm," the older gentlemen uttered, again, stroking his beard, "please show Miss Pendleton to her aircraft to assess the damage, while I think this over..."

"Yes sir," Kazuma said, and led me away. I'll have to remind myself again to ask for his and the other ones name's later.

Our little group headed out of the building, and back into the sweltering midday heat. My, how I so dislike this heat, but I guess I'll just have to get use to it. We headed off towards a more shabbier, metal hanger that couldn't compare to those huge concrete beasts of hangers just a little ways away.

As we reached the threshold of the large metal doors, I spotted that familiar green tail, with the bright red double cross plastered on it. I grew more and more excited, but the slow walking pace was hampering my joyous mood.

"Do you know if anyone inspected or started to repair my aircraft?" I asked the two men as we stopped for a second.

"Not that I know of..." Kazuma answered first, "all I know is that we just towed the plane from the runway to the maintenance hanger here."

"Maybe Mr. Sako made a once over with it?" the brown haired one piped up. I wondered who was this 'Mr. Sako' he mentioned.

"Probably," Kazuma answered back.

"Uh, excuse me, but may I go inspect my aircraft personally," I asked, "and also alone?" The two men looked at one another with questioning glances.

"I guess that's all right," the brown haired one answered, "but if you need anything, just ask us or Mr. Sako, ok?"

"Alright, thanks chaps!" I said happily, as I turned and walked into the hanger. I saw the them both shrug their shoulders and walk off back towards the control tower.

I was overjoyed to be reunited with my Spitfire. I was also really determined to get my bird back into the big blue yonder again! Looking at the bullet riddled plane, I knew that this wasn't going to be a simple cake walk, but only the clock's hand will discuss that motion...

_ Btw: No, I don't own any of the characters associated with "_Stratos 4_", but you know that already! =)_


	5. You can't fight on an empty stomach'

_A/N: Nothing to really say, but 'Bon appetit'!_

_Chapter 5: 'You can't fight on an empty stomach!'

I took a once over of my Spitfire, surveying all the damage sustained. It was bad, but still surprisingly repairable. The aircraft sat there basically intact, well, meaning no one has touched a single bolt or instrument on in. I jumped up onto the wing and slid open the canopy. The stench of blood came at me full force, like a punch to the face. I looked at the leather seat and saw that it was absolutely drenched in blood, with flecks splattered here and there.

"Phew, I can't believe this is my blood!" I whimpered, trying to waft the stench away with my hand. I knew I had the unfortunate task of cleaning it up, but I stuck to it and cleaned the mess up within an hour.

Now that the awful smell was gone, I could start the repairs. To me, it seemed that the only major problems were the loose control cables and the bullet holes that covered the airplane. But as far as I knew, there are many unseen problems yet to be found.

I set to work, first repairing the control cables with some extra wire I found lying around in the piles of assorted parts scattered around me. Whoever is in charge of this hangar must really like collecting junk and rubbish. Then, also finding some aircraft aluminum, I patched a few of the numerous holes around the plane. I also found some green paint to paint the metal, but none in blue or dark green as I had wished.

"Boy, that was a lot of work, and there's still more to be done!" I said to myself. But as if on cue, I heard my stomach growling, so I left off work and started to look around for something to eat and drink.

"Hm, I wonder if there's a pub around..." I mused, my thoughts on getting tanked up tonight.

I looked back outside and surprisingly saw that it was near dusk. Suddenly, sirens started going off, and looking around feverishly, I hurried back into the safety of the hangar.

"What's going on!" I heard myself say quietly as I sat down on the concrete floor slowly, automatically getting ready for an air raid.

"Oh, there's an interception possibly later." a mans voice said behind me. I spun around to see a man with a baseball cap standing over me, with a grin on his face.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Kouichiro Sako at your service," he said, "but please, call me Mr. Sako."

"Ah, you were the one who looked over my plane, yes?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes ma'am, I was really surprised that it was still airworthy after the beating it took." Mr. Sako said, ending it with a cheerful, yet slightly pompous chuckle. I stood back up and Mr. Sako gestured me to follow him. Shrugging my shoulders, I followed him through the open hangar doors and looked upon an amazing sight. I saw two massive trucks rolling from the huge concrete hangers I saw earlier. On their backs were two big, sleek and gleaming white aircraft of some sort.

"What are those?" I asked pointing at the aircraft. Mr. Sako grinned at the sight, as if it were the pride of his life.

"Those, ma'am, are Shimoji's main interceptors, the TSR-2MS!" he said triumphantly.

Hearing my stomach growl again brought me back to my main goal, finding a bloody place to eat. So, I talked with Mr. Sako for a little bit more, until I found the conversation to be quite uninteresting for my tastes.

"Um, Mr. Sako, do you know where the closest restaurant, eating establishment, or pub is?" I asked, finally getting to the point.

"Ah, might I suggest Kouchin, they always serve the best stuff." he answered, and then he proceeded to give me directions. I said thanks and took off, trying to get there before I collapsed with hunger. For such a small island, I was surprised with how badly maintained the roads were. After walking for a bit, I finally came into the dimly lit town. I heard in the distance from an intercom something about stand-by pilot unit and standing down, but I really didn't catch most of it.

As I rounded the corner on one of the fence lined streets, I saw a neon sign and written on it in Japanese was 'Kouchin Restaurant'.

"Well, it would seem that I have found my destination." I thought to myself, as I walked to the front door. I didn't see business hours posted, so I opened the door and stuck my head in.

"Hello, are you open?" I called.

"Oh, why hello!" a girl about my age, but maybe a little older, said. I asked here again if they were open and the girl responded with a nod. She motioned me to come in and I obliged. I followed her to the roomy, yet deserted dinning area and she seated me with a smile by a large television. Handing me a menu, she asked, "Would you like anything to drink, ma'am?"

"Do you have any black tea?" I asked.

"Why yes, and is there anything else you would like with that?"

"Oh, just some milk and that will be all, thank you."

The waitress bowed slightly and hurried off to fill the order. I was scanning the menu, deciding what to order next when a thought came to me. I had no bloody money! Well, I did have about 10 quid, but I wasn't sure they accepted the pence in Japan. I decided against getting anything else until that matter was solved with the owners.

"I guess I'll just be having tea tonight." I murmured to myself as the waitress came back with a cup of tea.

"Will there be anything else?" she asked.

"No," I said, taking a sip of the aromatic tea, "that will be all for now." The waitress went away, but came back lugging what looked like a delivery box and another uniform, like the one she was wearing and stood in front of the door, as if she were waiting for someone. I was starting to wonder why she did that when the door cracked open and the faces of four girls peered through. A gray, heavy set cat looked at them and meowed impatiently.

"Welcome home," the waitress said happily, "could you go out on deliveries?"

"So... Yeah,"the teal-haired girl at the top of the pack said dreary. The brown haired girl laughed faintly. Oddly, the bluish haired girl at the bottom looked mortified when the looking at the cat staring right at her. They all piled in and took off upstairs, coming back shortly dressed in different color cheongsams.

I sat there quietly, not wanting to interrupt them. The group, not noticing me in the corner, went over to the counter, and the waitress said, "Then, please go on the first delivery."

"While you're doing that, we'll prepare the next orders." she continued.

"It's going to be a very hectic night, so be quick about it!" an elderly voice yelled from the kitchen.

"I'm sorry," the waitress apologized to the girls, "I'll fix you dinner after you're done."

The elderly lady, whom I could see more clearly as I quietly moved to a better position, banged her ladle on the pan and harshly said, "Those who don't work, don't eat!" So, the girls, taking their deliveries scooted out the door, saying in unison, "All right! We're on our way!" with the last one saying, "See ya, Admiral!" I figured 'Admiral' was their cat, who was sitting there licking him or herself, and meowed in reply to the comment.

The elderly lady, no, cook, called after them to stop calling the cat 'Admiral' and call her by her proper name 'Alice'. She complained how since they were calling the cat that, that now it thinks like that. The waitress giggled at the comment.

Suddenly, a ping and the television switched to a new channel, one with a radio news like feel to it. The woman on the television went on to give information on the upcoming comet. The cat, the waitress and I stood there, looking at the screen as information poured from the speakers. After a few minutes of watching the woman on the screen, I sat back down, and enjoyed my cup of tea, since I knew it was the only thing I would be having for dinner.

I watched the two women rush around, making orders and preparing deliveries and such. I looked on, deliberating on whether to ask them if they need help or not. I decided to ask them if they needed my assistance.

"Excuse me," I asked as I walked up to the counter, "do you need any help?"

"Definitely," said the cook, "if you help us, I'll wave your bill!" The second 'bill' came out of her mouth, I was already donning an apron and asking the elderly cook what to do. She smiled and put me to work, preparing ingredients for the various dishes that were slowly cooking. For quite awhile that's all I did, only seeing the group of girls only when they had to pick up orders.

I could tell that they noticed me, but didn't say anything as the reward of dinner was something they obviously couldn't afford to lose. Well, who couldn't notice an RAF officer, wearing full dress uniform and wearing an apron, cooking at a feverish pace along side what looked like the only two staff in the whole entire restaurant (Well, other than Alice).

After a little bit, the television once again pinged and the newswoman came on again, this time telling of the interception that will be taking place in just a minutes time. The waitress, Ran was her name, hurried over to the television when the orders finally stopped coming and watched along side Alice as the newswoman started a countdown to the time of the supposed intercept. This sounded a bit the Battle of Britain, with all the times and rushing to intercept Jerry bombers and fighter escorts.

Without me even noticing, the newswoman counted down to zero, and told us that there has been confirmation of a success. It felt like Earth, or me for that matter, has just dodged a bullet and is breathing a sigh of relief. Later, after the last orders were sent out, the cook, or Rin, thanked me for my help and said I could order anything on the menu, free of charge. Not wanting to be selfish, I ordered the basic stuff like rice, the sweet and sour chicken, and some egg rolls to boot.

As I wolfed down the food, I saw the group of girls come back. They went to get changed and came back for their much deserved dinner. I saw that the attitude of the teal-haired girl was much changed from the few times that I saw her tonight, but I didn't say anything. After a satisfying meal, the girls went upstairs and what I guessed their own rooms. I thanked Rin and Ran for the meal, and they in turn thanked me for my help.

Before leaving, I asked the elderly cook if she had any rooms open.

"No, sorry," she said, "all of our rooms are occupied, but would you like for me to phone an inn about reservations?" I said yes and she went away to make the calls. She came back a few minutes later telling me that there was a room open at one of the inns. Handing me a card, she said good-night and I walked to the inn's address through the sleepy little town.

Once I got to the inn, I checked in and immediately went up to my room, which was oddly room 221b*. I closed the door and inspected the room. It was just your basic inn room, with a mattress on the floor and a dresser. Boy, do the Japanese live really minimalist or what? I took off my heavy uniform jacket and skirt, feeling relived. I spun around and landed back first onto the mattress, forgetting it was resting on the hard wooden floor with no support.

After recovering from my sudden clumsiness, I got under the covers and slipped quickly into a restful sleep, wishing still that this was all a dream. Yet it was a dream with delicious Chinese food and a puzzling British commander.

_*Note: If you get this reference, you get a cookie and a pat on the back._

_ Again, so I don't get the coppers on me, I do not own any part of '_Stratos 4_' or any of the related characters. The main character is of my own creation, so please ask if you would like to use it in another story, thanks!_


	6. European or African?

_A/N: Sorry for the bit of wait, but you know how school and work can prevent my musings. Also, thanks for the reviews everyone!_

Chapter 6: European or African?

I awoke in the morning to the soft sound of jet engines.

"At least they were considerate of the people below them," I said to myself. Yawning and stretching my arms, I got out of bed, and dressed myself with just my dress shirt and my skirt, as the coat was too hot for this beautiful weather. I still wore the DFC my father gave me, vowing to keep it close at all times.

I walked down stairs and greeted the inn keeper, the man said that there was a message for me and then he proceeded to hand me a piece of paper. What was written on it was as follows:

"Miss Pendleton, would you please meet me in the control tower after breakfast. I just want to have a friendly chat. I assume you know the route."

Sincerely,

Mr. Reynolds

"Hm, that's odd, but I might as well do as he asks." I thought to myself. I went off to Kouchin for some breakfast, which I presumed the serve. Walking at a leisurely pace, I experienced that the town had more than meets the eye. Seeing the once sleepy town come to life in the morning, with the smells of cooking and the soft patter of feet on the asphalt ground made it seem so homey.

After observing the town's atmosphere, I finally made it to Kouchin. I got seated by Ran again, but this time actually having the correct money in-hand. I ordered a simple and light breakfast, with a cup of hot, black tea of course! Once the food was gone, I paid my check and asked if they needed any help for lunch, which they replied with a hearty 'Yes'!

I took my leave and went to the base. I found that the road looked even more in disrepair in the daytime than at night. Finally reaching the base, I headed straight for the tower to see what Mr. Reynolds has to say.

Trudging up the stairs, I meet along the way another young lady with bluish, almost dark purple hair. She seemed to be about my age, may be it a little older. I nodded and she did the same as we passed each other in the narrow staircase. I glanced back, but already found that I was alone once again.

Still thinking about the encounter, I finally made it to the top of the stairs. Mr. Reynolds, sitting in the same couch that I met him in yesterday.

"Good morning, miss," he said brightly, "I take it you found suitable lodging last night?"

"Yes sir, I did."

"Well, that's good," he continued, "now, lets get down to business, shall we?"

I nodded in agreement, and he motioned me to sit down next to him. After seating myself, he asked if I wanted anything to drink, which I automatically replied 'black tea with milk'. I covered my mouth just as the words came out, and I think I blushed a little, because Mr. Reynolds was smiling like a child getting a box of sweets for their birthday.

"Well, now that's out of the way, I have to ask you, what caused that damage to your plane?" he questioned me, not doing anything to get that cup of tea, which annoyed me. I wanted to say that Jerry did it, but I was unsure of how relevant that would be.

"A swallow." I answered, knowing the allied code name for the Me-262 'Schwalbe' or 'Swallow' in German.

"Hmm, a swallow..." he mumbled, until he looked deep in thought. I thought it was best not to interrupt him. A few minutes later of listening to him grunt and hum, he finally seemed to come to some sort of conclusion.

"I say lass, would you be referring to a European Swallow, or an African one?" he said, leaving me utterly dumb founded that he could even deduce that.

"Uh, I'm sorry sir, but what do you mean?" I said, still confused at the elderly mans statement.

"I'm saying, which one's faster? European or African?" he said seriously.*

"Uh, European?" I said, taking a stab in the dark.

"Now that's what I thought," he said, closing his eyes and stroking his beard, "but you said you're an RAF pilot, correct?" I nodded, thoughts that the man was senile forming in my head.

"Ok," he said, "I did a little digging around and found out that you are not apart of No. 41 squadron." That was strike one, and one I couldn't answer. I just sat there, neither confirming, nor denying the information.

"I found that quite odd, so I searched deeper until I came upon a set of records, dating back to the nineteen-forties." he said, with a small sly looking smile on his face.

"Your name happened to show up multiple times, care to explain?" he stood up, stretching a few times.

"Uh, I think my grandmother had the same name as I?" I answered, again stabbing in the dark.

"Now now miss, I find that quite unlikely," he continued, pacing around, "I think that maybe you and the person in the files are one in the same." I held my breath, again letting silence do the talking.

"Would you care to explain _that_!" he said accusingly, suddenly tossing a folder at me. I scrambled to catch it and folded back the cover. The sight that I saw took my breath away. In the folder, it contained quite everything, and I mean _everything_, about my life and service in the RAF. I was surprised that this man, whom I had just personally met yesterday, did all of his homework in such a short time.

"Well, this sure puts my knackers in a twist!" I thought to myself. I was beginning to think that trying to hold off the inevitable is futile. I let the man ramble on for a few minutes, before I decided to start talking.

"Would you like me clear up a few of those questions, sir?" I asked him after he tired out.

"Yes, if you would so please!" he said, exasperated.

"Well, as I already told you, my name is Dawn Pendleton, and I'm from Manchester, England," I began. I knew this might take awhile, but I forged ahead. I told him everything he was know, from where I was born, to what units I've served in. He sat there, taking it all in, or at least I hoped so.

After a good half hour, he stopped me with a raise of his hand. I fell silent, hoping I hadn't mentioned something wrong or out of place.

"So, Miss Pendleton, to sum it up, you are a RAF Squadron Leader from nineteen-forty-three, and you were just fighting German fighter jets over Spain, when you were suddenly transported here, to my airbase," he summarized. "now, this is quite mind-boggling!"

"Is there anything else you would like to know?" I ventured.

"Yes, you said you served under my grandfather, Merlin Reynolds?" he asked.

"Yes sir, he was the base commander at Biggin Hill."

"Well, can you tell me what he was like in those days?" I obliged, telling him a few stories about his grandfather. He sat there like a day-dreaming boy, but I said nothing, finding it quite humbling. After a few minutes, he stopped me again with the same gesture.

"Why, this was enlightening," he said brightly, "but I suggest you not mention this 'time-travel' business to anyone, am I clear?"

"Yes sir!" I said, standing up and then saluting.

"Well then, you are dismissed." he said, giving a quick salute back. I started to turn, but then remembered something.

"Um, sir," I said, "do you know the other girl that was here before me?"

"Oh yes, she was my second-in-command, Miss Sayaka Kisaragi," he said with a smile, "I do believe she is teaching at the moment, but if you want to pop your head in and say hello..." then he proceeded to give me the location of the classroom. After winding through a maze of corridors and rooms, I finally was outside the room. The door was open, but it was dark inside because they were showing a movie of sorts.

Looking out upon the class, I could tell that this wasn't the most exciting lesson, but most of the class was still watching it attentively. That is all except two familiar girls in the back. I saw the brown-haired one trying to get the attention of the teal-haired girl by whispering her name, Mikaze. Unfortunately, I could hear it clear as day, and the teacher, who happened to be Miss Kisaragi, must have also caught on. I watched the two girls, oblivious to the teacher nearing, continue to talk. Finally, when the brown-haired girl said, 'Hey, Mikaze!', the teacher pounced.

Holding up a pink stick looking thing, the teacher said threateningly "If the outdoors concerns you so much, you can take a look at a leisurely pace." The teal-haired girl, or 'Mikaze', laughed airily as if it were just referring to her only. Sitting beside her, the brown-haired girl looked as if she and the other girl were caught red-handed, as she muttered 'It didn't work...' quietly.

Looking upon what felt like a punishment for the poor girl, I decided it was time to leave. As I turned, I heard a throat being cleared, so I looked back. I saw Miss Kisaragi looking at me questionably, and I looked back with a questioning face of my own, wondering if I had interrupted her. She said nothing, only standing there, observing me. I could see the whole class fell silent, as if this was some sort of old western stand-off from those Saturday evening movie serials.

After what seemed like hours, Miss Kisaragi finally asked if I needed something.

"Oh, uh, do you know where the cafeteria is?" I lied, trying to get out of this awkward moment.

"It's down the hall and to your left, you can't miss it," she said, still looking at me suspiciously.

"Uh, thanks..." I said. I could tell that she had something to say, but I decided it wasn't the right place or time for it, so I left in a hurry. I scurried out to where the hangars were and again set to work on my precious Spitfire.

I stopped just before lunch time, remembering the promise I had made with the ladies at Kouchin. As I was walking to the tower, I saw Mikaze standing out on the runway with her head, most likely because of that 'incident' earlier. Poor thing, she looked like she was about to pass out, but I couldn't tell if she had even ran at all. I was thinking about going over and talking to her, but I felt that would impede on her punishment, so I let her be.

Arriving at Kouchin, I find that the place is utterly swamped with people. I see the group of girls I saw earlier, excluding Mikaze, waiting on tables, while Ran was helping out in the kitchen with Rin. I went right back to the kitchen, seeing that they desperately needed help. I gradually inserted myself into the madness and set off to work.

While we were working, Rin commented about wishing the cat could help out, at which I chuckled at.

"Shizuha!" Rin called to one of the girls, in which the brown-haired one responded. "Sorry, but could you come into the kitchen?" Rin asked her.

"Ok!" called back Shizuha. I made a mental note that the teal-haired one is Mikaze and the brown-haired one is Shizuha.

"Ok? Can you handle that?" a light brown-haired girl, also wearing a cheongsam, uttered in disbelief. As if already prepared, Shizuha pulled out what looked like a thick card, and dropped it to reveal a surprisingly long strand of cards.

"See? Third one from the top." Shizuha said triumphantly. The light brown-haired girl looked at them and said "Expert license... Chef?" in disbelief.

"When did you..." continued the light brown-haired girl until she was cut off by Shizuha.

"Hehe, it's real, see?" Shizuha confirmed to the other girl. Shizuha went on to explain that she got it through a 'correspondence course', what ever that means.

"From now on," Shizuha said, flipping the line of licenses up with the flick of a wrist, "it's the age of licenses!" I wanted to listen to more, but Rin told me to prepare some shrimp for a lunch set. Still, I heard bits and pieces of the conversation, which also included two boys sitting at a table next to the girls.

"But Mikaze's not here yet either." I heard the light brown-haired girl say to the boys.

"Oh, she was standing out on the runway, staring out into space," said a dirty blond-haired boy grumpily. "Geez, what the heck's she thinking?" he added.

"What?" said the light brown-haired girl in disbelief again.

"She isn't serious enough." the other boy at the table said grimly. While she may be a substitute, she has an important mission of protecting Earth!" he added, sounding annoyed.

"She doesn't mean to slack off!" the girl said, trying to defend Mikaze.

"I'm saying she doesn't understand the situation!" the boy counter-argued.

"It's not just our base," he said, "there are tons of people who want to get up there." I winced at the boys stinging words.

"Drop your guard, and you'll be surpassed by other candidates in no time."

From hearing that, I could tell that this was a high competition environment, which reminded me of when I first joined the RAF. I turned to see that Shizuha had joined us in the kitchen, and coming up to me, she introduced her self as 'Shizuha Doi'. I introduced myself, and we both set off to work again.

As we were working, we both lightly conversed about each other and our interests.

"So, Miss Doi," I began, as I was chopping up some leeks.

"No, please call Shizuha, ok?" She corrected me, as she was adding sauce to something.

"Alright, so how old are you, lass?" I asked.

"Sixteen" she answered. I was amazed at how young she was.

"Wow, so what do you do?" I asked, wondering what a 16 year-old is doing on a military base. Actually, I was wondering why there were so many young people on a military base.

"I'm a candidate pilot for the Meteor Sweepers." she said. So she's a pilot, interesting...

"Boy, you remind me of when I first started flying." I said, reminiscing about those days in early 1939, the year I joined the RAF.

"Wow, you're a pilot too," she said. "what did you fly?"

"Supermarine Spitfire, mark nine" I said without thinking.

"What's a 'Spitfire'?", she asked. I was abashed, everyone knows what a Spitfire is! I kept my fury at a smolder and continued on.

"You can look it up in a book," I said, a bit frustrated inside but not at her, it was the blasted nuts I was hand-cracking. I decided to change subject, as this was getting a little close for comfort.

"Ok, do you know how Mr. Reynolds got here?" I asked Shizuha, thinking she was surly the smart one of the group.

"I don't know really, but you could ask Ms. Ran or her mother." she said with a warming smile.

"I'll do that," I answered, "but-"

"Ladies, could you hurry up!" Rin yelled at us.

"Yes ma'am!" me and Shizuha said in unison, and went back to work.

After the lunch rush was over, I sat down in the dinning area and ordered something for myself. As soon as I was finished, I paid my bill and asked Ran if there was any sight-seeing to do on the island. She pointed out a few secluded spots and beaches, but what interested me was the bird statue with a calming view she mentioned.

I left Kouchin, saying goodby to the cat and Shizuha, who both replied back. Setting off towards the statue, I took a detour to the inn and picked up a few things. Then I went to the area described by Ran. As I walked the trails and paths, I took in the nature surrounding me. I took it in so much, that I had seemed to lost my way.

After awhile of wandering about, I came upon a cliff. I looked down to see the statue described by Ran. I also saw Mikaze, but it look as if she hadn't seen me yet. I crouched down by some nearby brush and watched her. Her face told me that she was very down, so much that I wished I could cheer the lass up, but I didn't want it to be an awkward conversation with a person she had only just met.

Mikaze turned around and said something to the statue while looking up, but I couldn't hear her. She then brightened up and went to her school bag. Pulling out a sheet of paper, she folded it until it resembled an airplane.

"Oh, I used to always make those myself when I was a little girl." I whispered to myself as she was making it. She genuinely looked happy, which in turn made me happy. After she was finished, the wind started to breeze a little, as if on cue.

Turning toward the statue, again she said something to it and turned into the breeze. She threw to paper airplane into to the air, watching it glide gracefully. Suddenly, a counter breeze shifted the paper glider in it's flight, changing the coarse of it. It flew up, then turned itself on a collision coarse with Mikaze. As it came within centimeters of her, she ducked down with the plane narrowly missing her. It kept sailing until it collided with the statue and fell in a crumpled heap.

I turned back to the girl and saw that she was also looking at the fallen piece of paper. Looking away, she sighed and again looked depressed. It seemed to me that there is quite some pressure on the young lass, a pressure she can't seem to handle. I turned away, not wishing to intrude on her privacy anymore.

I found the path and went back to the base. Again, I toiled on my mostly-fixed fighter for some hours. Surprisingly in no time, I had completely fixed the plane myself, so I spent another hour touching up the paint. Standing back from the finished aircraft, I took out my DFC and held it tightly, remembering all the things my father taught me and how I was expected to perform with the utmost talent, as my father did in the Great War.

"I guess it runs in the family." I said out loud, shrugging my shoulders. Feeling spent, I went back to the inn, and took a nice long, well deserved, bath. After I was finished, I turned in for the night.

As I lay there, looking out at the illustrious moon, I thought to myself, "I guess I could stay for a while."and with that I smiled and fell to a slumber.

_ *Note: If you get this reference (Surely you already do) then you get a pat on the back!_

_ A/N: Again, not much to say, other than next chapter will really pick up, I can promise you that!_


	7. Lost and Found

_A/N: I plan on doing 1-2 chapters for most episodes, with the more in-depth ones getting more chapters and longer ones at that. So, moving on, I present to you lucky number 7! _

_ [Also, as a side note, it's my birthday today, that's why I felt the need to publish this one for my readers. The work certainly doesn't stop on one's birthday!]_

Chapter 7: Lost and Found

I woke up early the next morning, so I could try and test fly my Spitfire. After I got dressed and was just walking out the door, I remembered one important thing: I completely forgot where my flight suit is! All I know is that I didn't have it at the hospital, so it's ether there or it's gone...

"Great..." I mumbled as I walked into Kouchin, sitting myself down with a sigh. Again, I ordered just a cup of tea, because I can always get something when I get back. Rin came up to my table and sat down across from me.

"What's getting you down, honey?" she asked, sipping her own cup of tea.

"Oh, nothing really," I said, "it's just that my flight suit is missing, and I sort of need it."

"Flight suit, flight suit..." Rin mumbled somberly, as if trying to remember something.

"Ah!" she yelled as the cook jumped up from her chair, "wait here a moment, if you please!" Then she scrambled out of sight, leaving me in a confused state.

"For an older person, she sure can run!" I said, exasperated. Moments later, she came back with a brown paper package.

"Here you go," she said, sliding it towards me.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Why don't you open it up, huh?" she said, grinning. I did as I was told and opened the package carefully. I reached in an pulled out...

"My flight suit!" I excitedly said as I pulled out the drab suit, "What, where, how... who?"

"The hospital sent this back, and Robert gave it to me to patch up good as new!" she explained.

"Oh, thank you!" I hugged her, a little bit too tightly I might add.

"Now, now, try to not ruin it again, ok?" she made me promise, which I did. After finishing my tea, I thanked her for the drink and the clothing. I waved goodby and set off in a joyous mood the the airbase. As I reached the base, I met up with another woman, whom introduced herself as Touko Mukai, the base's air traffic controller. I told her that I was planning on test flying my plane, to which she said she'll handle the communications part of it.

As we parted ways, she told me to not start up the engine, and wait for her confirmation to do so. I nodded back and walked to the hanger which housed my fully repaired Spitfire. First I suited up in my flight suit, then proceeded to check around the aircraft for any problems. I hopped into the cockpit to check the avionics, which were fine and calibrated. I remembered to check the petrol tanks, which were also fine and full. I proceeded to push my aircraft out onto the dawn-lit ramp. I got in, and turned on some music until I got the go-ahead.

Surprisingly, I was actually picking up the BBC, I guess all those years spent tinkering with the radio equipment paid off. I listened to some jazz and classical, since nothing else interested me in the slightest.

"Miss Pendleton, are you there?" came crackling through from the radio.

"I'm here, uh, what call sign should I use?" I asked.

"Use 'Shimoji Tower', and for you, what call sign should I use?" the tower asked back.

"Use 'Man-', no, just use what ever the letters say on my fuselage." I called back, almost using my home defense call sign.

"Ok, Echo Bravo Alpha, please start your engine, then wait for further instructions." the tower said.

"Roger that," I said, starting up the engine. I waited until it settled down in to a rhythmic purr, just like a kitten. The tower then proceeded to tell me taxi to the to the runway, which I gladly did.

"Ah, it good to be back in the saddle," I reiterated from those American westerns I used to watch. I felt the plane bounce lightly over the ground, thinking about Biggin Hill back home. As I got into position, the tower called me, but it wasn't Ms. Mukai on the other end, it was that familiar English accent of Mr. Reynolds.

"Miss Pendleton, I see that you fixed you Spitfire." he said, with an added chuckle at the end.

"Yes sir, I take it you're here to watch me?" I asked him, already knowing the answer.

"Now, I think you already know the answer to that, Squadron Leader." he said. Adding my rank at the end was a bit classy.

"Echo Bravo Alpha, you are cleared for take-off!" Ms. Mukai said, getting back on.

"Oh, and Mr. Reynolds says 'Good luck and Godspeed!'" the tower added. I smiled, maybe he has more to him than meets the eye.

"Roger that, Shimoji Tower!" I called back, as I lined up my plane with the stripes on the runway. Taking a pause, I applied the breaks and pushed the engine up to it's limits, so I can see if it could still function properly. After doing that for a few seconds, I lowered the flap, and released the breaks.

"Here I go!" I said under my breath, barely audible over the engine's roar. The plane lurched forward, gathering speed as it went. I heard the high-pitched rush of air over the roaring of the engine as it started to climb into the morning sky. After I gained some altitude, I rolled over and began to put the Spitfire through it paces.

After leveling off at 10,000 feet, I pulled the nose straight up and counted how long before I stalled out. After 25 seconds, the plane stalled out and nosed straight down, towards the base. I quickly got out of the stall and did it once again, again achieving 25 seconds. Satisfied, I banked and sped towards the ground. Once I was about 1,000 feet above the ground, I pitched up and extended my flaps fully.

The plane grunted and creaked as I did the quick deceleration, which passed me with flying colors. I decided to venture over the town, to see if I could wake up a few sleepyheads. Giggling like a schoolgirl, I roared over the town at a low altitude. I looked back to see people running from buildings and looking out windows, all having no balmy idea of what happened.

I passed over Kouchin, seeing Ran run out and call back into the building. Rin came out and started laughing as I passed over again.

"Well well, lets put on a little show, shall we?" I said maliciously. I went onto do a few barrel rolls, loop-d-loops, and high-speed passes. I flew away and performed a few more tests until I was satisfied. As I turned towards the base, something came to mind.

"Why, since I'm already up here, lets test the guns!" I said as I passed the base and flew over the open ocean. I took aim at the water and imagining it to be a Jerry convoy, I unleashed a few, long bursts of my machine guns and cannons into the water. Watching the bullets make little splashes in the water was exhilarating. I did it once more, partly to check for accuracy, but mostly just for fun.

Finishing with a few more maneuvers, I headed back to base. I chuckled to myself, thinking that this was the second time I was landing at this base, but not as a smoking wreck thankfully!

"This is Echo Bravo Alpha, requesting a full-stop landing, over?" I called out over the radio waves.

"Echo Bravo Alpha, this is Shimoji Tower," the radio crackled, "your permission is granted, we'll see you on the ground." I was in a lifting mood, with the beautiful morning and calm sky, I certainly picked the right day to go flying.

After an uneventful landing, I parked the Spitfire in the hangar which held it for those long, tiresome days. As I walked out of the hangar, I could see it was close to midday, which got me thinking about lunch. My legs felt quite sore and tired, so I decided to try out the cafeteria, in hopes that there might be something good and for the shorter trip.

I looked down the field as I was walking and saw the group of girls again. Two of them were on the ground, panting hard, while the other two were standing by them. I would liked to have a little chat with them, but my legs said otherwise as I kept walking to the ever higher priority of food.

The second I walked inside the control tower building, however, is when all hell broke loose. Sirens started going off again, like last time. The only problem was that I was staring down a hallway filled with personnel, all heading towards the door right behind me! As the wall of people ran past me, squishing me up against the wall in the process, all thoughts of eating left me.

After the rush of people, all I saw was Mikaze and her friends hurrying to perpendicular to me.

"Shizuha!" I called, grabbing the attention of the brown-haired girl. "What's going on?" I asked hurriedly, wanting to get out of this blasted suit.

"Interception, and we're on stand-by!" she said, running off. I decided to talk to Mr. Reynolds for more information. I hurried up to the hallway the girls went down, only to see Mikaze was the only one walking. I wanted to yell at her, but I urgently wanted to discuss something with the commander.

I took another glance at the younger girl, to discover that she looked to be 'lost', so to speak. She looked just as depressed as when I saw her at the bird statue. She turned her head, glancing in my direction, which I took as a cue to get moving.

Without even changing, I hurried up the stairs and was confronted with Ms. Kisaragi's questioning stare.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, more like interrogated.

"I-I came to ask Mr. Reynolds something." I answered, a little uncomfortable.

"You're not suppose to be up here, now please leave!" she insisted. She sounded quite stressed, so I retreated like a scalded hound and went back down.

"Well, so much for that..." I said, a bit disappointed. I decide to go out and see if Mr. Sako needed anything. As soon as I opened the door, I saw those big, gleaming jets being rolled out.

"What was their name again, TSH-1," I wondered aloud, "or was it QSR-T?" I found that I completely forgot what Mr. Sako told me just a few days ago.

"It was TSR-2MS, ma'am." a voice grunted behind me. I turned around to see Mr. Sako frowning, most likely because I forgot what he told me so quickly.

"Uh, so I take it there's another interception?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Yep, but it doesn't look very good for us again..." he responded, trailing off in a saddened state. He started walking to the massive aircraft bunkers, so I tagged along with him.

As we walked near the TSR-2s, I could see the pilots, and was very surprised that one of the aircraft was being piloted by the two lads who were at Kouchin yesterday. I was about to speak to them, when I saw that one of them was very anxious and nervous. The aforementioned one was mumbling to him self, while the blond, who looked to be slightly enjoying himself, was checking the instruments in front of him.

A question popped in my head that has been bugging me all day.

"Mr. Sako," I asked, "why are those planes on lorries, and not touching the ground?"

"Oh, you'll see hopefully." he replied, a small, but sinister smile forming on his face. I scratched my head as he turned and started to examine the white jets.

"I'm bloody tired of surprises..." I huffed under my breath, and started to walk around. Again, the sirens started to go off and I hurried back to meet Mr. Sako.

I asked, "Um, Mr. Sako, what does the second round of sirens mean?" I got no response, because he was too busy yelling out orders. He continued, until one of his rants caught my attention, and the two lads in the plane as well.

"Spin the props!" he yelled, which got questioning looks from the two lads in white suits.

"P...Props?" the blond one said, confused.

"What's that?" the other added, just as confused as the first. Mr. Sako laughed at their remarks, sighting that he was 'just getting in the mood'. I was genuinely in shock that people their age didn't know what a propeller was.

"And they call themselves pilots!" I almost shouted, but mumbled it at the last second. Mr. Sako also reminded them that if they were to fail, there would be hell to pay, which I took note of.

I stood in awe next to Mr. Sako as the planes were hoisted up and launched into the sky with blistering speed.

Smiling, Mr. Sako added, "Show them we're not just an ordinary mop-up crew!" I smiled too, thinking that this base doesn't get much action, which was worlds away from Biggen Hill. The constant bombings and sorties was enough to make anyone go bonkers.

I continued to watch the planes rocket through the air. It was fast, but I wanted none of that, because I was already content with my Spitfire. I kept looking at them, but suddenly, they veered off and started to come back.

"What happened?" I asked, wondering what it was. Mr. Sako went over to a phone and called someone, nodding as he listened to the other end. He came back, telling me that it was a bird-strike and both had aborted. He turned around and started shouting orders for the next pair of TSR-2s to get prepared.

As the second pair was rolled out, I remembered that Shizuha said that they were on stand-by, so that means their up next. From what I saw, all of them were confident, but Mikaze was the one troubling me. All of the things said about her started to line up in my mind, beginning with her disinterest in being here.

"Sashiba 33, Sashiba 44, scramble!" I heard over the intercom. Glancing back, I saw the girls, all suited up and holding helmets, rushing out to their awaiting interceptors. All of them, that is, except Mikaze, who scrambled out the door at the last second. She chased after them, until she was confronted with a certain yellow line on the tarmac. There, she stopped dead and stared down at it with some sort of mortal fear.

"Oi!" I yelled at her to no avail. It looked as if time slowed down, and the personnel were running a snails pace. I could not tell why she was so scared of that line, but line or no line, there was a mission to be done. She started to back-step slowly, as if the line was repulsing her. I could see the rest of the girls stopping to look at Mikaze, while Mr. Sako was also coaxing her to move in the form of shouting and hand gestures.

She stood there, frozen, as if it were the only thing that she could do.

"...help me!" she suddenly yelled. Along with the outburst, a powerful gust of wind somewhat shoved her forcefully over the line. She looked down at her foot, almost unbelieving that it had actually crossed the line. I heard a bird's call above me which warranted my attention for a split second, it also seemed to have gotten Mikaze's attention too.

"Hey, Honjyo!" Mr. Sako yelled at her, shaking his fist.

"What are you doing?" he continued, "Get on board already!"

"Mikaze!" one of the girls called. Mikaze took a deep breath and started to show some determination, which I grinned at.

"Get going, lass!" I called to her, in which she nodded and took off towards the waiting planes. She hopped right in like a seasoned veteran would do and the whining of the jets starting signaled me to start heading towards my Spitfire. Once I got to it, I strapped myself in and did a quick fuel check.

"Hm, that'll be enough." I murmured as I glanced at the gauge, seeing that it was near full still.

I looked over to see that the pair of jets and saw that they were being hoisted up to launching position. I turned my radio to the tower's channel, and asked if I could go along as an observer. The tower let me do it, but I wasn't to interfere with any part of the mission, which I agreed to.

I started my engine with a roar and taxied quickly to the hold position by the runway. I got the go ahead first, since I was quite slower. I roared down the runway, watching the two planes ready themselves for what lied ahead. I lifted off and hurriedly climbed as fast as the engine would allow, knowing that the interceptors would be on me at any moment.

My Spitfire, which has a service ceiling of about 40,000 feet, made me wish I brought a coat. I turned my heaters to the highest setting and settled in for a slow assent. I switched my radio to the channel the girls were using, just to get an idea of how they work.

Just as I reached 20,000 feet, the two jets blasted off and streaked into the sky, towards my direction. I tried to race them to the coveted 40,000, but they effortlessly passed me after they jettisoned their rocket boosters. I sadly stayed at a measly 20,000, following them with a pair of borrowed binoculars, my mouth hanging in awe.

"10 seconds before launch." I heard over the airwaves. I heard one of the girls start a countdown, so I started to quietly countdown with them myself.

"8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... Fox One!" I heard the distinctive voice of Mikaze yell, followed by another girl also shout 'Fox One!'. I watched as two small cylinders rocketed away from their gleaming white carriers and streaked further ahead at the meteor fragment that I spotted. The missiles flew up and impacted the space rock with a series of explosions.

"Now that's a big boom!" I shouted, clenching my fist in excitement. The fragment was utterly destroyed and Mikaze's wing-man broke off. It started to bother me that Mikaze's plane didn't break off yet and continued to streak up into the higher echelons of the atmosphere.

"Mikaze, what's the matter?" I heard Shizuha say. "Hurry and turn around or else..."

"Just a little more and we're in outer..." I heard Mikaze say, before stopping. I rolled my binoculars a little further up and I caught a glimpse of a pair of white objects streaking perpendicular to us at high speed.

"Mikaze!" Shizuha yelled desperately, and this seemed to get her attention finally.

"S...sorry." Mikaze apologized, and flipped the aircraft's back to the ground.

After those intense few minutes, I completely forgot that I was in below freezing conditions. Coming back to reality, I started to dive my aircraft also, and caught up with the interceptor duo.

"Good show girls, good show!" I called over to them, as a congratulations, as I pulled up alongside them.

"Thanks, but who are you again?" I heard Mikaze asks, which threw me off.

"Ah, you'll meet me once we're on the ground." I answered back. I already introduced myself to Shizuha, so she can help me explain things.

Our planes began to dance as we lined up with the approach, with me as the rear-guard and Mikaze's plane in the vanguard.

"Sashiba 33, Sashiba 44, clear to land, runway 17, wind 060, 10 knots." Shimoji tower broadcasted.

"Clear to land, runway 17." Mikaze confirmed.

"Clear to land, runway 17." the other girl lead pilot also confirmed. I waited in the approach pattern, watching to glistening planes land gracefully. Tapping my fingers on the dashboard in front of me, I wondered what was taking so painfully long.

"Echo Bravo Alpha, clear to land, runway 17, wind 065, 8 knots" the tower called, answering my question.

I followed the communication with "Clear to land, runway 17.", just as the other two did. I gently nudged my aircraft into position and pulled back on the throttle. Extending the flaps and landing gear, I soon glided almost perfectly onto the runway with a small squeak.

As I rolled into the maintenance hangar, I noticed that a lot of people were gathered around the four girls, congratulating and wot-not. Quickly unbuckling, I hopped out and headed towards the early celebrations. And with those celebrations came the traditional painting of a kill on the aircraft, except it wasn't a black German swastika, but a red shooting comet.

After that, everyone went to Kouchin for a quick celebratory drink and meal. Again, just like the first night I was here, the place was jam packed of hungry patrons. Ran was rapping out the orders, one by one, while Rin and Shizuha feverishly worked in the kitchen. I noticed that Mikaze wasn't here, but I ordered a drink anyway, intent on finding her later.

I could see that the boys still haven't any luck with ordering again, which I felt sorry for. Walking up to them, I said "I can see you two are hungry, so I'll make you something for you're troubles." The boys, with their mouths watering, praised me like a savior, thanking me many times.

As I walked back to the kitchen, I heard Shizuha voice, and it sounded very frustrated.

"Grrr! Where did Mikaze go, anyways?" she said. I pondered the question too, but I still set to work making the two seemingly unappreciated boys their lunch. After finishing the boys lunch, as well as my own, I set off to the bird statue with a brisk jog.

"Ah, have to keep in top form, wot!" I giggled to myself as I jogged down the twisting paths and trails. As the statue came in sight, I saw that familiar teal-haired girl leaning against the railing. I quieted down, in hopes she wouldn't hear me, and crept up upon her silently. Peeking over one of the statue's supports, I saw her make another paper airplane and launch it ahead of her.

Again, the wind changed and the plane came hurtling back towards her. Only this time she was ready, as she simply caught the piece of folded paper in between her fingers.

"It's all right," she spoke towards no one in particular, "I won't run away anymore." Sitting down, I thought to myself, "Well, she certainly seems to have found herself finally!" and I quietly congratulated her for this unannounced achievement.

"Don't worry, lass, I'll keep your back covered." I whispered in to the wind, finalizing my silent agreement to not let another person whom to I am friends with to ever be harmed. _

_Well, tis the conclusion of yet another chapter, with more on the way! Thank you!_


	8. Story Notice

This is the kind of thing that I did not personally wish to happen, but here it is... A story notice...

I'm _extremely _sorry to my readers for not updating for a good while, but I've been contemplating in what direction the story should go. On top of that, I am not satisfied with the perspective in which this is written, or in this case, 'First-person'. Therefore I, after much deliberation, have decided to rewrite this in 'Third-person', to better express the environment, setting, characters interactions and their individual personalty.

While I am rewriting this, there might be the possibility of more stories, not necessarily Stratos 4 themed, over the coming weeks and months.

This current version of the story will be kept in place, but I will decide if I should post the new edit of it under a new story, or just to replace the chapers on the original one, though I am leaning towards the latter.

For updates on any of my current and future story plans will be posted on my profile, and please leave a comment or PM for concerns, questions, and comments!


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